


Into The Night [Version 2 - Wonho]

by K_Fiction_Therapy



Series: Into The Night [2]
Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Vampire, FUCK, Fanfiction, Fetish, Fic, Gen, Halloween, Into The Night, K-Pop - Freeform, K-pop References, Kink, MX, NSFW, Orgasm, POV reader, Series, Sexual Content, Smut, Smutty, Top Shin Hoseok | Wonho, VERSION 2, Vampire Fetish, Vampire Sex, Vampire Shin Hoseok | Wonho, Vampires, Vampirism, Vers. 2, abandoned house, cock - Freeform, cum, explicit - Freeform, kpop, mature - Freeform, monsta x - Freeform, vampire, vampire kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 20:18:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17290721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_Fiction_Therapy/pseuds/K_Fiction_Therapy
Summary: A/N: This time, it’s the second part of the seven part series called “Into The Night”. I’m going to do a version for every member of Monsta X. They are all Vampire AUs, but for different kinds of vampires. Vampires have always been my favorite of the cliche horror related supernatural creatures, and I enjoy them so much I wrote seven segments! I made Wonho a romantic period, anti-human blood consuming, devoted, antiquated vampire. I hope you guys get what I mean. <3 Enjoy!





	Into The Night [Version 2 - Wonho]

You had always had a bit of an adventurous streak, and a dash of curiosity that you just couldn’t shake. You found yourself sneaking into abandoned places, chasing ghost stories and local legends. There was nothing like discovering something new, something cool and uncovered that the town had forgotten about—and God knows there was a lot of that about; forgotten history; but you didn’t want to forget. You wanted to remind yourself of places and memories that were never yours. You wanted to breathe life back into the memories there and feel invigorated by the energy of the place—it was intoxicating.

There was one house that always called to you, speaking at you in whispers as you passed, its visage enough to beg you to trespass. It shadowed the road to your house, near the dead end at the path’s heart, its history vibrant though its color was quite dull. Sometimes, you would find yourself making excuses just to walk past it, the house seeming somehow taller than its two-story stature of creaking wood. Each day, you contemplated finding a way into the home, knowing that it had been unoccupied for years, and that it was most likely was filled with natural traps in way of loose floorboards and broken glass—but that did not stop the allure.

The day that you managed the courage to approach the house with the intent of getting inside and he persistence not to back down, there was a cool breeze in the air that made the atmosphere outside slightly rigid, but the breath in your lungs so much cleaner. You stood tall in front of the place, your backpack secured over your shoulders and spine straight, eyes focused on the task at hand, your mind trying hard not to get taken over by how excited you were. An excited, frivolous mind makes careless mistakes—and you really didn’t want to end up with some sort of injury and a new badge of stupidity.

Moving towards the house, you approached the front, rounding the metal fencing that separated the property from the road you stood on. Breathing in the view from up close, you would sneak around the side of the place, easily forcing open a tarnished window, the wood swollen and unkept, easily bending to your will, popping the lock completely. Throwing your backpack inside first, you would hop up and into the house, making sure to pay close attention to where your feet landed, not wanting to step on glass, nails, or anything of the like.

Feet hitting the ground, you stared at how gorgeous the place was. Sure, it was completely condemned, filled with mold and littered with broken, scattered furniture, dishes and cloth—but in the disarray was a beauty unlike anything you’d ever seen. Something about the shards of dishes, and way the natural light peered through the cracks in windows and walls, made you feel like you were in a dream, like you were seeing something so beautifully surreal that needed to be cherished—and you wouldn’t forget the sight. Not any time soon.

Carefully puttering towards the center of the room, taking a moment to glance up at the tarnished chandelier, hanging on by a thread, you would smile. Your intrigue wasn’t sated just yet, no, you wanted to head upstairs, see the more intimate quarters and pick through a few personal spaces—hunting something to take as a souvenir. You wanted something like a doily, an unchipped plate, or a piece of silverware; something with energy and history.

Hopping up the stairs, over a few holes in a step or two, you found your way to the second floor of the house, passing by a few broken dolls and wooden cars—for a moment, you contemplated taking them. Every room was open, showing a similar house-scape of ruin, except for one. A brown, wooden door, cracks in the varnish, but otherwise untouched. Suddenly, you heard the whispering of history again, the tick-tock of time, and you were pulled towards it.

Hand twitching, you reached for the knob, slowly turning it. The creak that came from its brass filled your ears and suddenly grew to deafening levels as you pushed the door open. Minimum resistance found you, but you caught yourself unable to push it completely—only a crack big enough for you to slip through was left. Just enough room, what a lovely coincidence. The smell of rose pedals pulled you in through that door, the scene illuminated by natural light causing you to gasp in awe.

A huge, gorgeous master bedroom laid out in front of you, unfurling into cracked, floral wallpaper, an open balcony with tattered curtains, and the pouring of vines into the area, making it smell wonderfully of greenery. Near the balcony doors, ajar and cracked, stood a man, his back to you, hair red and orange like the flame. His silhouette was unlike any other you’d ever seen, masculine in build, yet soft in posture, with black clothes pulled tight over every line of muscle.

You made a soft squeaking sound, your eyes widening as you caught his attention and he turned, his face as pale as the winter moon. You swore you had no breath left in your lungs as you stared at him. You felt his presence as if he was inside of your bones, and he hadn’t yet spoken a word. You just stood there, awestruck, and as his lips opened, his charm overflowed inside of that space, the world around you contorting to a perfect vision of Victorian opulence.

The room spread out in front of you was no longer run down, but had been returned to its former glory—and by what magic? Your eyes came to focus on him again, after surveying the area around you, your lips peeling open, “H-how did you…do th–” You shook your head and tucked a lock of hair back behind your ear, “W-who are you? Is this your house?”

For a long moment, he didn’t answer, his fingers splaying over a flower on the wallpaper, touching it as if it were the most valuable thing in the known universe. Kind eyes turned on you as he shifted to face you, his lips finally opening, though his words met your ears as a smooth whisper, softer than any silk you’d ever faced, and richer than any chocolate that had ever met your tongue, “…You cannot truly own a house—not one with this…history. Isn’t it beautiful?”

Your mind hung on every word that he said, still not able to comprehend what was happening around you. The room had become immaculate, restored to its grandeur from decades before. Hadn’t you just walked into the master bedroom of a condemned house? If you tried very hard, you could almost smell the rotting wood, but nothing close to what it was before he looked at you. It must have been an illusion. 

Suddenly, he was before you, his hand reaching up to caress your face—though, you would swear he never took so much as two steps. You gasped and breathed out raggedly, staring into his eyes like a helpless rabbit, and in many ways you were. He gave the softest of smiles, his lips pulling back, showing perfectly white teeth and a set of perfect fangs. You stared at them before looking back up to his eyes questioningly, your eyes wide and questioning.

“Do not worry about my fangs…I don’t intend on feeding from you.” He gently touched the lobe of your ear as he leaned in, the world seemingly frozen around you as your lips met, your entire body feeling as if it were on fire immediately, melting against him. When he pulled back, his eyes slowly opened to you once more, the bat of his lashes almost audible, “…You can call me Wonho.”

“W-Wonho…” You breathed, the blush on your cheeks settling, eyes not leaving him.

“Good. Remember it…” He gave an appreciative nod and then pulled you close once more, “…You’ll need to know what to cry out…”

**********

Your body arched beautifully beneath the toned form of the vampire, quaking as he rolled his hips low, hands lost in the red silk of the bed around you, your splayed hair meeting his fingers. Moaning wantonly, your legs locked around him, toes pointing and hips shifting upward to meet his thrusts, forcing his thick cock deep inside of you, making you moan loudly with each movement he made, that girth spreading you open beautifully.

“Ah, lovely…you’re so open for me…”

Wonho gasped, the sound coming out in toned vampiric patterns, sounding almost dual. Your eyes rolled back in your head, and you swore you saw stars, his hips sending that girth striking just right, abusing the sensitive nerves within you. Undulating beneath him, you cried out his name into the heavens, your hands seeking purchase, gripping and scratching at perfect muscle structure, leaving red marks that quickly faded.

“Wonho! J-just like that. D-don’t stop—God, don’t stop!”

The vampire snarled, and you arched yourself from the bed to feel more, your arm hooking up and around his neck, bringing him down, your foreheads meeting. The bed creaked in protest, the antiquated frame barely able to handle the thrashing of your entwined bodies, the perfect dance of your love making driving it to scoot against the wooden flooring.

“I’m gonna c-cum. I’m gonna—ah, I c-can’t hold o-on—"

Your breath caught in your throat and he smirked, feeding off of your ecstasy. Slamming his hips into you, you would shake like a leaf left to the wind, shouting as that thickened head hit just right. Your moans guided him to the perfect rhythm, and you held on for dear life as pleasure began to wrack you, your muscles spasming around him, flooding and milking all he had. He fell apart in masculine grunts that only made your abdomen throb harder, your eyes closing tightly as you rocked your hips, riding out your orgasm, your throat dry from wordless praise.

You refused to pull back from him, and your nose brushed his own, his lips spreading into a wider smile than before, showing the full extent of his fangs. He hadn’t fed from you—he had kept his word, but why? You paused briefly, trying to catch your breath and keep your heart rate down, your hands fiddling with the hair at the base of his skull.

“You must be hungry…” You whispered, tipping your head, “You can…bite me a little…if you want to—”

“No.” He said sternly, licking over his lips, “Do not tempt me…I must—” He pulled back, breaking your hold, and you made a saddened sound, staring at him as if he was taking your heart with him—that charm still holding the whole of your mind in its clutches. He moved, lifting from you, the silk falling back over you. You stared, reaching out for him, but he’d already gotten to far, pulling his clothes back on.

“Wait, where are you—” You asked, the room suddenly seeming cold as you watched him approach the windowsill and position himself to crawl out of it. You took a moment to glance around the room, the whole of it back to its condemned origins. The gorgeous furnishings and antiquated splendor gone, nothing but termite ridden boards, molded curtains, broken knick knacks and shattered glass remaining. The bed beneath you was disgusting, the blanket nothing more than a moth infested sheet now. You snapped your gaze to him questioningly and he tipped his head with a smile, lips forming a whisper which would sound loudly in your mind as if his lips had once more found your ear.

“One day I will return to you—

—but, for now I must go—

—into the night.”

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This time, it’s the second part of the seven part series called “Into The Night”. I’m going to do a version for every member of Monsta X. They are all Vampire AUs, but for different kinds of vampires. Vampires have always been my favorite of the cliche horror related supernatural creatures, and I enjoy them so much I wrote seven segments! I made Wonho a romantic period, anti-human blood consuming, devoted, antiquated vampire. I hope you guys get what I mean. <3 Enjoy!


End file.
